


I Don't know But I've Been Told

by foolishgames



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: M/M, Sounding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-11
Updated: 2012-08-11
Packaged: 2017-11-11 22:06:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/483377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foolishgames/pseuds/foolishgames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short fic for a prompt on Glam Kink: Adam and Tommy like to experiment and explore. On the menu for tonight is sounds. It's one of Tommy's kinks and Adam's really curious. And nervous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Don't know But I've Been Told

Tommy’s been washing his hands all afternoon, absently. Adam starts keeping track around lunchtime, Tommy messing around, making himself a sandwich, washing his hands, fiddling with his phone, washing his hands, playing his guitar, washing his hands.

“You ever had a UTI?” Tommy grumbles when Adam points it out, and the answer to that is ‘yes’ and also involves cherry syrup and Brad’s mouth, so Adam elects not to answer.

It’s the only sign Tommy’s nervous, even though Adam knows he’s two minutes away from freaking out.

“I’ve never actually done this with anyone else,” he explains, drying his hands again. “Comfy?”

“Awesome,” says Adam, and Tommy nods and opens the lube. He sterilised the rods this afternoon, boiling water and rubbing alcohol, while Adam entertained himself elsewhere, so this is his first glimpse of the plain steel rods since he’d stumbled over them the other night and Tommy had to explain.

Tommy eyes him carefully, from where he’s kneeling beside him, sprawled back against the pillows. Adam hadn’t freaked, exactly. He’d been shocked, but by the time Tommy had managed to stammer out exactly what they were for, he’d had time to school his face. 

And then Tommy had gone all blushing and his pupils had blown out and he’d said “It’s weird, you wouldn’t like it” and Adam just can’t back down from that sort of challenge, which is why Tommy is now very carefully applying lube in little drops to the head of his semi-erect dick.

“Still okay?” says Tommy, and there’s a flash of steel between those long fingers.

“Gravy,” says Adam, nonsensically. “Sorry, I’m kind of nervous.”

Tommy smiles. It softens his whole face, the nervous lines easing out of his forehead. “It’s okay,” he says. “Makes it easier, at first. Breathe in?”

Adam does, obediently, closing his eyes against the sight of the lube drip-dripping down the toy, and then exhales on command. In again, and Tommy cups his hand around Adam and there’s pressure at the tip, and as he breathes out, oh.

He can hear Tommy breathing, the mattress under his fingertips, ticking of the clock, sweat springing up on his skin. “Breathe,” Tommy mutters, and he sucks oxygen back in, and the thing slides in a little more.

“It’s,” says Adam. “It’s, Tommy, that’s?” Not good, not exactly. Feels bizarre, raw and almost wrong. But it’s sensation, overwhelming, feels like it’s twisting all the way up into his chest, and when he opens his eyes, Tommy is staring at him hungrily, eyes flicking between his face and his dick, cradled there in Tommy’s hand, as Tommy holds the sound so he’s not even pushing it in, just letting gravity take it a little further, sliding so easy.

“Talk to me,” says Tommy. “Tell me how it feels.”

“Weird,” Adam says truthfully, and Tommy smiles, makes some miniscule movement with his wrist that makes the damn thing go deeper, slick and effortless, and Adam whines. “Oh, Tommy, please.”

“Please what,” murmurs Tommy. “Stop?”

“No.” He doesn’t mean to say that, but he can’t stand the thought of Tommy stopping, not yet, not while this sensation is still half-finished and tangling him up inside, not until he sees it through. “No, keep going.”

Tommy hums a little and tilts his hand, and the sound slides slowly down, inexorable, until the flared steel ball at the end is nestled innocently against the head of his dick, the whole unyielding length of it pressed down inside, in his dick, he’s got a steel rod in his fucking dick.

“Okay?” Tommy asks, touches his face. It leaves a smudge of lube cool against his cheekbone, and Adam gulps in a breath and nods shakily. 

“It’s so strange,” he whispers, the solid undeniable presence. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, scared to touch himself, clenches them in the sheets.

Tommy shushes him, kisses his face. “It’s okay,” he says. “It’s okay, I know it’s strange, just feel it, alright? I won’t hurt you.”

And then he lowers his head and presses his open mouth to the side of Adam’s dick, about almost at the base of the shaft, where, inside, he can feel the tip of the sound has settled, a sparkling sensation. He’s hard now, having gotten that way without being aware of it, and Tommy’s mouth is so good and familiar, such an easy sensation compared to the alien weight of the steel.

Tommy licks at him gently, down to taste his balls the way he knows Adam likes, nosing up the shaft of his dick, and then he rubs his thumb across the head, catching on the steel ball, and this wild noise tears itself out of Adam’s throat, holy shit.

Tommy says something then, but Adam misses it, and then Tommy’s whole face is obscured by the fall of his hair and the curve of Adam’s dick as he lowers his head again.

He laps at the sensitive spot just below the head, rubs his tongue over the ball to make Adam swear as the whole thing shifts inside him. Tommy curls his long fingers around Adam’s dick and jerks him slowly, slowly, and Adam gasps at the feel of that, the way his flesh moves around the rod, makes everything brighter and sharper and better.

He’s been so focussed on the weirdness he’s tuned other sensations out, but the feel of Tommy’s mouth brings it roaring back, that he’s responding this, that he likes it even if it doesn’t feel good, that he’s right on the edge without any idea of how he got there. He’s making high, alarmed noises and tries to quiet himself, because Tommy’s stopped what he’s doing and is looking concerned, but Adam’s hand is his hair seem to comfort him, because he smiles that innocent smile Adam learned early on not to trust and starts to pull the sound out.

Adam makes a noise that might be protest, but Tommy ignores him, gets it about halfway out and then lets it go with a smile, so it slides back in. Adam shudders, and his hips come off the bed, and Tommy says “Okay, hold on, wait,” and pulls the whole thing out so suddenly Adam’s halfway into his orgasm before he processes its loss.

It’s like a jackhammer, sudden and unstoppable, and Adam washes up gasping, feet cramping up from his toes curling, whole body rocked and wracked and limp-noodley. His vision swims with after images for a minute, and he blinks stupidly and his fingers brush Tommy’s hair, his head resting on Adam’s belly, and from there the world makes sense again.

“That was intense,” Adam says. He’s slurring a little, mumbling, but Tommy’s head moves, so he’s probably nodding, so it probably made sense.

“Gets that way,” says Tommy. He stretches a little, resettles, his hair tickling. Adam scratches his scalp. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Sleepy and worn out and there’s an ache settling in he doesn’t want to think too hard about, but he’s okay. “Thanks.”

Tommy lifts his head and looks at Adam, his mouth twisted like he’s trying not to smile. “Welcome.”

“We could,” says Adam, and swallows. “We could do that again, I think.”

Tommy hums assent, and squirms around until his head’s on Adam’s shoulder, and says, “Just try and get out of it, you,” and the rest of the sentence is lost, because Adam’s asleep.


End file.
